


You Have Loved Enough

by nirvhannahcornell



Series: You Have Loved Enough [1]
Category: Nine Inch Nails (Band), Soundgarden (Band)
Genre: Bad Boys, F/M, Past Relationship(s), Sex in a Car, wedding crashers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 18:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19301023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirvhannahcornell/pseuds/nirvhannahcornell
Summary: Picture this, dear reader: congrats on the wedding! But wait, you are conflicted about something, something about some residual feelings about Trent, the bad boy who stole your heart.





	You Have Loved Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a five part series of imagines christened after songs from Leonard Cohen’s album Ten New Songs  
> “And when the hunger for your touch,  
> Rises from the hunger,  
> You whisper, ‘you have loved enough,  
> and now let me be the lover.’”

Trent was your man. The one whom you swore would be yours forever in all of his crinkly leather and his boots and his long black hair. You had no doubt that would ascend to the level of the ultimate Nine Inch Nails fangirl, to be the girl hanging off of the arm of the bad boy.But after that acrimonious break up, the dream shattered apart. It took you days, weeks in fact, before you decided it was time for you to pick your heart off of the floor and clasp onto another man who would give you meat whenever you said you were hungry. And you did.  
You stare at yourself in the mirror at the tiara atop your head.  
Today is the day, the day you would forget about all of your past loves; all of the men who had broken your heart; all of the boys you had touched and caressed only for them to leave; all of them now rendered obsolete. The bodice of the dress hugs your body while the skirt fans out from atop your hips. You squirm in the high heeled shoes: you only have so much room on the inside from the opened toes, but it’s what you must deal with. Today was the day after all.  
A tiny voice in the back part of your mind wishes you hadn’t broken off with Trent but it is too late at that point. You are mere minutes from uniting with your new man until the day one of you drops dead. It’s absolute, and it’s terrifying. Indeed, the prospect is so terrifying that you feel sick.  
No, you tell yourself, I can’t feel like this. I am getting married. Soon I shall be a new wife to someone... forever...  
The word echoes through your mind. Trent told you the same thing and look what happened there! You close your eyes and bow your head because you know your time has come. You wheel around, pick up the bouquet of fake flowers, throw the veil over your face, and walk out into the church. Your stomach ties itself up into a tight knot.  
The doorway comes within sight: your bridesmaids have already made their way to the altar in their fitted bright pink dresses and miniature bouquets. Everyone is seated in the heavy wooden pews of the church corridor and, as you look down the aisle at your groom, who referred to himself as Dan, standing waiting in patient anticipation in his black tuxedo, you wish that dreadful wedding music would not play. But it did, in grandiose fashion on the glossy grand piano near the far corner of the room.  
You take a step forward as everyone climbs to their feet for you. They’re all standing for you and yet none of it feels right. Something is missing. Someone is missing.  
You press on down the aisle all the way to the altar, before your bridesmaids and in front of his best man and two groomsmen. You stare out at the audience, all of whom take their seats on the pews once again. You look at your parents, your grandparents, your brother and his wife and their four soon to be five children, and a bearded man you didn’t recognize in a black sport coat and matching black fedora next your little nephew. Here goes nothing.  
“If anyone feels these two should not be wed in holy matrimony,” said the minister, “please speak now, or forever hold your peace.”  
And the man in black stands up.  
“I object,” he declares in a bold voice, and everyone gasps, including yourself.  
“Who are you?” you demand.  
“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” He whirls around so as to face the doorway on the other side of the room. “Trent! Get in here, buddy!”  
Trent! But wait, what’s he doing here? Rather, what is he not doing here?  
He bursts into the room in his black bondage trousers, thigh high black leather boots with the silver buckles, olive green shirt under a black overcoat, and jet black hair down past his shoulders billowing behind his head.  
“Oh my God!” you shriek, and Trent approaches the altar with his arms outstretched.  
“Hey, get away from my wife, jerk!” Dan snaps, lunging for him.  
“Suck my dick, pretty boy,” he retorts, pushing him back; meanwhile the man in black comes up from behind to make sure everything is alright between you because the audience is creating an uproar behind you. Trent puts his arm underneath your butt and gazed into your eyes.  
“I take back everything I said,” he admits, “please forgive me.”  
“Take me with you,” you plead at him, and he puts his arm around your shoulders so he’s carrying you, and he makes a run for it, removing you from the church. The man in black follows you close behind, clutching onto the crown of his fedora. While the chaos ensues in the church, Trent carries you outside to the warm middle of June evening and the patch of grass stretching down to the street. You look behind you at the man in black and you see coarse black hair blowing from behind his head.  
He continues to run with you in his arms until you reach the sidewalk and a low row of fine trimmed evergreen hedges: once the two of you round the hedges and the fence separating the church from the street, he stops and sets you down on the concrete.  
“Sorry—it’s hard to run in boots,” he points out, panting. The man in black emerges from behind him, out of breath. You kicks off the high heels to feel the cool, smooth concrete underneath your feet.  
“So you take back everything you said?” you demand from him.  
“Of course, babe,” he says, “I wouldn’t have crashed your wedding if I didn’t.”  
“I’m Kim, by the way,” says the man in black as he presses his hands to his hips. You gaze on at Trent as the golden light from the setting sun bathes over the crown of his head, thus illuminating his black hair as though it has glimmers of gold entwined throughout each and every fresh tendril. You fell in love with him for a reason, and that was because he had your heart, this bad boy in leather who needed a spanking.  
“Shit!” Kim cries out, and then lowering his voice as he takes out a ring of keys.  
“What is it?” asks Trent.  
“Daniel is quick! Get in the car!”  
The three of you make a dash across the parking lot, and lucky for you, you get to pick up your skirt and run barefoot across the blacktop while holding up your skirt like Cinderella. Trent and Kim lead you across the lot to the tiny black pickup truck with a camper shell parked near the exit. You feel the tiara fall off of your head and clank onto the pavement over the dual clomping of Trent’s boots and Kim’s sneakers. Kim fumbles the keys but he catches them before he can drop them onto the blacktop. He unlocks the driver’s side door, flings it open, and presses the button in the door to unlock the other doors.  
Trent climbs into the back seat first and then he coaxes you in with him. You almost swan dive in there from the length of the skirt, but once you climb in, you shut the door. Kim sticks the key into the ignition and the truck roars to life.  
“Step on it,” Trent commands, and the truck backs out of the space, and the three of you roar into the street with Dan and the others on your tail. Oh, how you missed the rush of being with Trent.  
He tugs you closer to his body and runs his fingers through your hair. You feel yourself growing damp at the touch of his fingers and the smell of the leather making up his boots. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a couple of piles of chains in the bed of the truck. Chains next to those old fuzzy red handcuffs you used to love. He whispers into your ear, “you have loved enough... now let me be yours again.” And with that, he plants a kiss on your cheek, followed by one on your lips. You can’t help yourself when you kiss him several times on the lips accompanied with a fondle of the scruff of his neck.  
He leans back against the door panel as Kim turns onto the next on ramp to the freeway. You kiss him again and again, and then you feel Trent unzip your dress. Little did he know, the dress had a sewn-in bra, so when the bodice unfurls, he stares on at your bare naked breasts. He bows his head forward for kisses on your chest, and all the while he fondles the curvature of your breasts and the taut skin of the areolas of your nipples. You close your eyes, and gasp, and relish in the feeling that you are fore playing with Trent in the back of the truck.  
Then you feel his hands caressing down the curvature of your back to your butt. You feel him tugging up the skirt so as to expose your bare feet and legs, but then you realize he’s going for the backs of your thighs and under the band of your underwear. His fingers make their way to your lips: lucky for you, the road is smooth and thus his touch is gentle as his digs his way in. You lay your head against his chest and gasp. You know he’s going for the spot. He caresses it, causing you to let out a soft moan as a big truck drifts by on his side.  
“I think we’re in the clear,” Kim says, nonplussed by the pleasured noises escaping from your mouth. “We need gas, anyway.”  
You feel the truck take the next off ramp but Trent continues to touch you, running his fingers along the curvature of your butt and giving you a light spank every so often. You let the moans die down but now you are huffing and puffing from the feeling. You feel the truck come to a stop and quiet down.  
“More later, my lady,” he whispers to you, giving you one last caress before he lifts you off of him. You straighten yourself up, including fixing the bodice of your wedding dress given you are now in a gas station teeming with people. But once he slips out of the back seat of the truck, you lay back down on the seat on your side.  
You look up to see Kim outside of the window, the corners of his big dark eyes crinkling into a smile. He opens the door, and stoops down to kiss your forehead: his beard brushes against your skin. It’s a feeling you didn’t know you enjoyed.  
“Don’t tell Trent I did that,” he whispers into your face.  
“I won’t,” you promise, although you know no promise is forever. You have loved enough to know that.


End file.
